


Forbearance in the Flames

by NyamiRose



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Ethical Dilemmas, Eventual Sex, F/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Philosophy, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Season/Series 03 Fix-It, Slow Build, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28931610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyamiRose/pseuds/NyamiRose
Summary: After his victory against the Magician, Isaac has every intention of marching on Carmilla's Keep to get his revenge on Hector. But when Miranda suggests a detour to his plan, Isaac finds himself in a strange town where night creatures roam in plain sight, where justice and forgiveness are valued above revenge, and where he discovers love and mercy… a town ruled by another forgemaster, with her own mysteries: Tereza.
Relationships: Hector/Isaac Laforeze/Original Character(s) (Implied), Isaac Laforeze/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Forbearance in the Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Olivia, Alaina, & The Tereza Stan Club

Isaac clapped, the sound echoing through the chamber, and calling the distance mirror into assembly. Its shards fell into place to create a looming surface, more than large enough to allow an army to pass through.

But that would come later. The magician was dead, and his legion of mind controlled slaves were now free from their tortured existence. Even Isaac, in all his apathy and distaste for humanity, felt he had to pay thanks to the one who led him to this victory.

In line with this desire, the mirror shifted to reveal Miranda, sitting on her porch as Isaac first found her, beside a fire. He suspected she could sense him spying. She confirmed this when she raised her eyes to meet his, and beckoned him to her with a wave of her hand and a knowing grin.

Isaac couldn’t help but chuckle, the corners of his lips raising into a matching grin. He let out a sigh as he passed through the mirror, his next step landing on the boundaries of Miranda’s humble dwelling.

“Ah, pretty forgemaster,” she began, amusement masking genuine pride at Isaac’s return, “I see you are alive and in one piece. So you are victorious then.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes…” Isaac sat down on the ground across from her, the fire between them. “It was a hard fought battle but it was won. I march on Styria the day after tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Isaac.” Isaac almost flinched at her words, too unfamiliar to be soothing, “My neighbors are free now- in a way. That is your doing.”

Isaac didn’t hesitate in putting up his wall, “It served my mission. I have an army now, more than I’ll ever need.”

Miranda noticed the deflection, but chose not to address it, “Indeed…” She breathed in deep from her pipe, contemplation evident on her face. Isaac suspected she had some commentary on his plans but wasn’t swayed to prompt it so quickly.

She finally settled on her words, “I’d been thinking about that. There’s someone you could benefit from meeting. I believe she’ll be able to assist you in your mission.”

“She?” Isaac inquired.

Miranda smiled, something more devious hidden in it, “Tereza. She’s a Forgemaster as well. She’s gone out of her way to acquire various texts about our vocation- truly, she has the most knowledge of our profession. And she puts that knowledge to good use. Forging has remained the same for hundreds of years…” she locked eyes with Isaac, “but Tereza is creating something _new_.”

Isaac scoffed, not one to buy into a spiel so soon. He thought of his night creatures coming back to life with increasingly bizarre features, each one nothing like the one before it. “New? All that we create is new.” 

“But the _way_ we create is old.” Miranda countered. “Tereza is using new _techniques_. She’s forged night creatures that blend into the population. They look exactly like humans. No wings, no claws, no multiple eyeballs. You place them beside a human, and you could never tell the difference. But they retain the same strength, the same power.” She leaned back in her rocking chair, taking another drag of her pipe only to exhale with a haunting sentiment, “An army of Hell, hidden in plain sight.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes. He suspected Miranda had her own plans, her own motivations, in giving him this knowledge. “And how does this pertain to my march on Styria?” he asked.

“I’m guessing Carmilla means to rule this land, as Dracula did.” Miranda didn’t miss the subtle twitch of Isaac’s brow at the mention of his lord’s name. She continued, “I appreciate your tenacity to face your enemy head on. But a new challenge begets new strategies. You might require a different approach this time around. And at the very least, Tereza has an expansive collection of books on forging. Her village is one of the closer settlements to Carmilla’s Keep, so it’s not out of your way. Sharpening your skills before battle would be worth the time, against such a foe.”

Isaac nearly scoffed, still trying to suppress the memories coming back to him at the mention of his master- and friend, “Carmilla is not so complex. She’s cunning, but I don’t expect a challenge.” 

Miranda raised an eyebrow, and unlike Isaac, did not hold back her scoff, “She’s not alone in that fortress. There are _three other vampires._ And if she has even half the intelligence of any vampire, she’s amassing an army as we speak.”

“I defeated the magician _and_ his mass of bodies.” Isaac deadpanned.

“Four vampires, with bloodlust and the strength to quench it, are not just mindless bodies, or a magical old man. They are a _threat_.” Miranda reminded him, almost sneering at her fellow forgemaster’s hubris.

To Isaac, however, it was not hubris, it was confidence, fresh off the coattails of victory. “I have my own army. Hundreds of night creatures, newly forged, from that mass of dead bodies- your former neighbors. I can easily overwhelm them.”

Miranda didn’t miss a beat, “But can you outsmart them?” She pointed her pipe accusingly at Isaac, “Do you know how and why forging works? Do you know all the ways and places it is performed? I don’t. Tereza does.”

Isaac fell silent in contemplation. Miranda was right, though he’d never say so out loud. Carmilla was a different kind of threat, one he had not previously encountered. She’d already proven to be cunning, full of plans and schemes, and not easily phased by shows of force. And now Hector- that _traitor-_ was probably making her an army. 

Hector was a skilled forgemaster, Isaac knew this. Hector had more natural talent, while Isaac had learned his skills from the books of magicians he encountered in his adolescence. His knowledge of forging was limited to the literature carried by the men he had killed. Perhaps, Isaac thought, it couldn’t hurt to expand his understanding of his own magic. But he suspected that wasn’t what Miranda was getting at. “So what do you propose? Go to Tereza, and...?”

Miranda smirked in triumph, knowing she’d swayed Isaac just enough, stubborn as he was, into a change of plans, “Just go to Tereza! She’ll be eager to share her knowledge, and you can work out a plan of action from there.”

Isaac, forever skeptical, asked one more question “And why would Tereza do such a thing for me?”

“Because she has no reason not to.” Miranda replied as if it was the only possible answer. “She’s like a daughter to me. Do treat her well, Isaac.”

* * *

Isaac strode through the mirror atop his nightmarish steed with his army trailing behind him. He found himself just outside of Ändernbach, the village where Tereza lived, according to Miranda. She described it as a barely-there village, self-sufficient yet not a town, or a bustling city. When Isaac asked how he’d identify Tereza amongst the townspeople, Miranda assured him that would not be an issue. Still, upon visiting a new locale, Isaac knew it was best for a forgemaster to be cautious, commanding the mirror to lead him into the woodlands surrounding the village, rather than the town center. He navigated through dense forest, the tree cover blocking the heat and shine of a late summer. Isaac didn’t expect the peaceful serenity of the terrain to last. Styria was known for its frigid winters, even in the lower elevations.

In the silence of his travels, Isaac considered his options. With no companions beyond the night creatures of his own making, Isaac had half a mind to bypass Ändernbach, and march straight to Carmilla’s Keep. It would certainly be faster. He would have much preferred to lead his army through the Magician’s mirror and right into Carmilla’s warhall. Isaac wasn’t entirely convinced he needed another forgemaster’s help. He recalled Hector- that _traitor_ \- and Dracula speaking of the young man’s “natural talent”. He recalled the flair of jealousy that arose in him, only to be purged from the body like poison as soon as possible. He recalled Hector betraying Dracula at Braila. He recalled Dracula fading away into the mirror, slipping out of his grasp, much like the desert sand he’d found himself surrounded by. He wondered if it was worth exposing himself to such impurity again.

In the end, a morbid curiosity compelled him to march onwards to the village, to Tereza. Miranda had been quite insistent. Her last suggestion was to defeat the magician, and that had worked out well for Isaac. He would never claim to trust Miranda, or anyone for that matter, but he made the choice to trust her on this issue, specifically. Surely, should this “Tereza” turn against him, it’d be a situation he could handle, like all the others.

The trees thinned and parted to reveal something between a large village and a small town below his gaze. From his vantage point, Isaac could identify a bustling market, dense with residents. A raised platform loomed in the center of town, uncharacteristically plain.

“Hmm. No gallows... _yet_.”

His army rumbled behind him, and Isaac considered leaving them in the forest. Too many times on his travels. townspeople had fled in terror at the sight of them, or took up weapons. Then again, Isaac found no reason to change his methods for those who would only ever want to destroy him. Be it for his army, his profession, the color of his skin, or just their nature, humanity would always seek to destroy. He pressed on, marching towards Ändernbach, night creatures in tow.

Isaac passed the threshold of the town’s outermost limits, onto well-trodden dirt roads, braced for shocked gasps, and screams of terror. He hardened himself against the usual harsh words, mumbled curses, and the glares of men who could not see beyond his complexion. Even if they did, they could not see beyond the oddities of his creations. He felt no fear in the face of men who would arm themselves with anything from pitchforks to swords against him. He was not scared, and hadn’t truly been for a long time. As he approached the stone paths that defined the heart of Ändernbach, he found himself only feeling tired, already exhausted by the thought of another confrontation with his so-called ‘fellow’ humans.

Isaac jolted, not at the sound of screams, but at the lack of them. He looked around at the townspeople on either side of his view. They went about their daily lives as if a parade of night creatures led by a forgemaster was not walking through the center of town. Isaac raised his hand, a command to his army to halt. He picked a citizen from the crowd, a young fair-skinned woman with blonde braided hair and blue eyes, and called out to her,

“You there!” She rose from her work, loading apples into a basket at a food stall. She met Isaac’s eyes with an exacerbated look, “What do you want, traveler?”

Isaac could not understand her muted reaction to his army as they growled and shifted behind him, “Why are you not afraid of my night creatures?”

The girl raised an eyebrow and snorted half-heartedly, hiding her reaction behind her hand before continuing, “Why should I be? Everyone here is used to seeing night creatures.”

With that she returned to her work, arranging other fruits onto the display. Isaac found himself adjusting uncomfortably upon his steed. Something was different in this town. He couldn’t place it yet but-

“Well looky here!! Another fuckin’ forgemaster. Come to take over the town too have ya?”

Isaac turned to the voice only to see a man stumble out of a nearby alley, beer bottle in hand. Now that was a bit more in line with his expectations.

The young woman whipped around at the sound of his voice, “Oh, piss off Jamison! He hasn’t done anything to you. Don’t be so bitter, you lout.”

The man- Jamison- threw his hands up into the air, spilling a good bit of his drink in the act, “I don't want any more forgemasters in this town, Heidi! We got enough problems with one!”

The woman- Heidi rolled her eyes, her stance and attitude implying this was not the first time she’d heard this argument, “And what are you gonna do? Fight him?!” She threw an arm out to gesture at Isaac, still perched on his night creature, bearing witness to the unfolding chaos, “Well, go get your head bit off by night creatures then! They’ll probably get a buzz from eating your drunk arse.”

“Hey, I ain’t that drunk!” Jamison yelled back.

“Is that what you said before you fucked your mom?!”

Isaac’s eyebrows rose at that remark, but quickly settled as he noticed more townspeople gathering at the commotion, with little regard for his army, even as they salivated at the sight of prey. His mount snorted underneath him, flinching away from the unusually brave crowd.

Jamison continued his drunken rant, “You people still don’t get it! We’re ruled by a tyrant! We didn’t need to change our ways, things were fine! You can all be content to let these magicians and necromancers and freaks into our town, but I won’t stand for it!”

With that he reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew a knife. It was more akin to a butterknife than anything; blunt, worn, and dull. Isaac couldn’t even pretend to be intimidated as he debated whether to exert the energy of drawing his own blade, or letting a night creature get second-hand drunk off Jamison’s blood-alcohol content.

Before he could even open his mouth and condemn Jamison to a stabbing, or command his army to dine, the crowd parted across from his view. A woman emerged, swiftly walking up behind Jamison before he could even notice her. She grabbed his wrist and wrenched it back over his shoulder, causing Jamison to cut off his own rant with a pained scream, and drop the pathetic excuse for a weapon.

“Now is that any way to treat our guest, Jamison?” The woman taunted. Isaac blinked, visibly taken aback by her appearance. After the captain, she was the second person he’d met in his travels that looked like _him_. Her rich brown skin, unique amongst the other villagers, reminded him of a time before revenge, before Dracula, before forging, before betrayal. Isaac’s mind began to drift at the sight of her voluminous natural coils lit umber in the sun. He remembered running his fingers through such hair, his hands much smaller then than now, parting them into strands, forming them into braids. Isaac felt himself flinch at the memory. 

The woman kept a firm grip on the man’s arm even as he struggled. Isaac noticed her unusual choice of dress- a black high necked top with billowing sleeves narrowed at the cuff, that flared at the waist with a flowing train of moderate length, and similarly colored fitted pants and ankle boots. Isaac could not recall ever seeing a woman in pants before. She wore a sizable black bow at her neck as well.

“Fuck you fucking forgemasters!” Jamison spat, and the woman- now allegedly a forgemaster, and Isaac suspected, the “Tereza” he traveled here to meet- wrenched his arm back further in reply, the sound of bones popping under the duress.

“What did you say, Jamison? Couldn’t hear you,” she taunted, grip never faltering on the struggling drunkard.

“S-sorry…” Jamison slurred, an affect that couldn’t be pinned entirely to either his pain or his intoxication. As soon as he said it, the woman released her grip.

“Go get yourself looked at by the medic.” It wasn't a suggestion- she shoved him firmly in the direction of a building marked as an infirmary.

The townspeople began to disperse, the show now over. Heidi tossed an apple to the woman and winked before getting back to work. 

The woman’s gaze lingered on Heidi at the gesture, an amused smile forming for a moment. She took a bite before turning to Isaac, “Apologies for the trouble, stranger. I promise this town is better than its weakest link.” She spared a glance to the infirmary, where Jamison could be seen through the window, flinching as a nurse dressed his wounds.

“Do you find it acceptable to have ‘weak links’... Tereza?” Isaac asked, guessing the woman’s identity.

She stopped mid-way through her second bite, and put a hand on her hip, looking up to Isaac with a raised eyebrow, impressed. “Well spotted. I am Tereza. To answer your question: I keep that ingrate-“ she pointed to the infirmary’s repeat patient, “-around purely as a cautionary tale. And what is _your_ name, my fellow forgemaster?” She smirked, taking in the army of night creatures behind him.

Isaac kept his expression neutral in spite of his morbid fascination with Tereza’s casual behavior towards him, “My name is Isaac.”

“Isaac…” Tereza repeated, mulling more than just his name over in her mind. She bowed low, arm holding the apple extended out with a flourish, “Welcome to Ändernbach, Isaac. Please, allow me to show you around.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes in reply. Surely a woman of his similar complexion, and a forgemaster no less, could not hold a position of power in this place. “And what gives _you_ such authority?”

“I am the leader of this township” Tereza stated proudly, taking another bite of her apple. Isaac found himself tired, if not suspicious, of this town’s inhabitants casually replying to his questions with absurd, improbable answers.

“Interesting.” It was all he revealed of his thoughts on the subject. If in fact Tereza was the leader of this place, that would be quite a fascinating account. But it was more likely fantasy, and Isaac remained on edge as a result. He glanced back at his night creatures. “And is my army to follow me from stall to stall?”

Tereza scoffed, appearing offended by the implication. “Of course not. In fact, they’re probably hungry…” she walked up to Isaac’s steed directly and reached out to scratch its snout. Isaac stared in shock as his vicious creation, forged for violence, did not growl at her, did not bite her, and did not impale her with its horns.

Tereza continued, “We have a near endless population of wild boar to the south of us. Our farmers can’t kill them fast enough and they destroy our crops. I say let your night creatures have…” she turned to take a headcount, having to account for the night creatures with two heads, “...thirty or so? To start, that is.”

Isaac turned to his army gathered around him, “Go,” he commanded with a wave of his hand. His forces promptly charged towards where he directed them, eager for a fresh meal. Isaac faced Tereza once again as the sounds of hoofsteps faded, “And where are _your_ night creatures?”

Tereza met his eyes, as if studying something within them, “Walk with me.” She began to walk further into town, and Isaac, despite years of self-discipline, got off of his steed and set it away towards its kind. He followed Tereza, too full of questions and curiosity to walk away.

“The people here do not fear my night creatures. The woman at the fruit stand said the people here were used to them, that they roam freely.” Isaac narrowed his eyes at Tereza, “And yet, I see no night creatures here.” Had Tereza truly made an army hidden in plain sight, as Miranda said?

“Heidi is correct. My night creatures wander among the town all hours of the day.” Tereza stopped walking and turned to face Isaac fully- a challenge, “Can you spot them, Isaac?”

Isaac glared, not in the mood for games. But he was eager to see if Tereza was bluffing. He scanned the area around him. It was a road lined with carts and stalls, the smell of baked goods wafting through the air, but there were no immediate abominations of hell to be spotted. Isaac did a second pass. There had to be a tell. There had to be…

Tereza interrupted his thoughts, “Here, let me narrow it down.” She made a sound, an ululation of sorts, and two figures came forward from the crowd. One was a middle-aged man, with dirty blonde hair and azure eyes. He wore workers’ clothes; a sturdy apron overtop a long sleeve tunic and pants. He also had on elbow length work gloves and sturdy boots. The other man looked younger, perhaps in his early twenties, with long dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail and chestnut eyes. He wore much the same outfit but without the apron and gloves. Their eyes were both sullen, but not without life. They held neutral expressions, but Isaac thought little of it. Perhaps he was already becoming numb to the quirks of this town.

“Which do you think is a night creature?” Tereza asked, gesturing to the men standing to either side of her.

Isaac glanced between the two. The usual hallmarks of a night creature were absent; no grotesque mutations, no bile or gore, no horrific features to speak of. 

“These are men,” Isaac declared, though without his usual deadpan certainty.

“Are they?” Tereza pressed. She reached over to the blonde’s right arm, and began to remove his glove. Exposed veins and brittle bone revealed themselves, skin entirely absent from the appendage. A pulsating black opalescent sludge filled the voids where muscle and flesh were missing. Without the gloves, the cracks in the facade of humanity were apparent.

“How is this possible?” Isaac gaped.

Tereza let out an amused huff, “My apologies, it was a trick question. They are _both_ night creatures.”

Isaac’s eye narrowed instantly, and Tereza took that as a cue to continue speaking. She glanced at the blonde, “Adam here was my first try. His arm is the unfortunate result of my being inpatient.” She shot him an apologetic look before turning to the brunette beside him. “Landon is my third, and latest attempt. He’s damn near perfect! But there’s always room for improvement, right?” She clapped him on the shoulder. Landon’s expression remained neutral and he barely budged under the force.

“You _name_ them _._ ” Isaac hissed, disdain blatant in the sneer pulling at his lips. He was reminded of Hector- _that traitor-_ and his penchant for giving his undead pets names, often settling for a title seemingly too lofty and too pedestrian all at once.

Tereza either didn’t notice his disgust, or didn’t care, “Well, they look so human. Didn’t exactly feel right to call them Thing One and Thing Three.”

Isaac did his best to temper his expression, despite the unprofessional implications of a forgemaster naming their night creatures, even referring to them like humans, “And where is your second creation?”

“Blair is... around.” Tereza got a far off look in her eye as she glanced around the town, “She’s a bit of a loner, that one. She had a hard death, and so I suspect she had a hard life.”

“Most people do.” “And yet most people don’t end up bludgeoned in the woods. Dying in your sleep is a luxury for the so-called ‘indecent woman’.” 

Isaac pursed his lips at that. It wasn’t his area of expertise.

Tereza changed the subject for him, “Why have you come here, Isaac? Most forgemasters who come here are here to conquer by force, but thankfully, that doesn’t seem to be your agenda.” Tereza turned away to peruse a vendor’s selection of jarred spices and herbs. 

Isaac spoke to her back, “I heard you have many writings on the act of forging. I am up against a formidable foe. I’d like to know the extent of my skills before then.”

Tereza laughed, her hair and shoulders bouncing with the reaction, “Your army isn’t enough?”

“Not according to my…. colleague.” Isaac wasn’t sure what else to call Miranda. Or that he wanted Tereza to know Miranda had sent him here. Miranda could very well be one of the forgemasters who’d come here to conquer.

“Hm.” It was the only reaction Isaac got as Tereza handed some coins to the stall worker in exchange for a small jar of spices. Their suspicions of each other were palpable.

Isaac crossed his arms over his chest and decided to cease with the pretense, “I’ll need a place to sleep. Can you direct me to an inn?” he asked in a curt tone.

“There’s no inn in this town. We don’t get many visitors. But….” Tereza turned to him, a small smile on her face, “I have an extra room. You can stay there. That way you’ll have easy access to my collection. There’s plenty to read.”

Isaac instantly glared daggers, “And how do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?” he sneered.

Tereza raised an eyebrow, “Why would I? You haven’t done anything to me.” Isaac wanted to scoff at the simplicity of that statement, but he found himself respecting it. Perhaps things would have gone smoother in Genoa if such a sentiment had been the predominant mode of thought.

“Besides,” Tereza trotted past him as she spoke, “If I wanted to kill you in your sleep, it wouldn’t matter where you rested your head.” She tossed a playful wink Isaac’s way which he promptly rejected with a scowl. 

“My home is this way, Isaac. Follow me.” 

* * *

Isaac paused as he approached Tereza’s home. It was a fine structure, sturdy, having already seen many winters. The cream colored exterior and timber framing was stained with age and exposure to the elements, but it didn’t feel decrepit or abandoned. It felt lived in, enjoyed even.

Isaac startled at a scuffle around his feet, only to see a chicken run off from where it’d been keen to peck at his boots. Tereza’s home was out of the way and at a slightly higher elevation than the town. The property was leveled for the home, a garden, and a small wooden shelter for the egg-laying hens.

“Don’t linger. If you stand still for too long, they’ll assume you’re food,” Tereza warned with amusement from the doorway, beckoning him inside with a hand. Isaac huffed before continuing towards the door, but not before giving a threatening glare towards the chickens lest they begin to think him a meal.

Isaac crossed the threshold and entered into a large living space, divided into separate areas by curtains and other large scraps of fabric. They were strung from the ceilings, with many depicting intricate Moorish patterns. The right side of the space functioned as a kitchen and a dining room. There was a hearth, and a wooden unit stacked tall with cupboards Isaac could smell were full of spices and herbs. The left side had a sitting area towards the front. It consisted of a padded bench and short bookcase against the wall and a low table. A few books and manuscripts were open on the table already; the rest were tucked neatly into their assigned shelves. The area behind the impromptu reading nook was completely obscured by layers of fabric, but Isaac detected a telltale scent of sulfur, ash, and blood: a forge table.

Tereza hovered at the back of the space, before a small hallway. She called him over with a wave of her hand, “This way.”

Isaac deliberately slowed his pace as he walked over, trying to get a peak at Tereza’s forge table as he passed, but the drapings obscured it completely. 

“The room on the left is mine. But the room on the right is free,” Tereza opened the door to the spare room and walked in. Isaac hovered by the doorway.

“Oh shit. Uh, excuse the mess,” Tereza rushed to remove a pile of books scattered on the bed in the far corner and place them on the nightstand. The rest of the room was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves overflowing with tomes, scrolls, and loose pages. A small round table resided in the remaining space, similarly covered in reading materials. Tereza grabbed the covers off the bed and shook them out, and Isaac was almost impressed when only a minimal amount of dust poofed up from the treatment.

Tereza finally settled her fussing, “I used to spend night after night reading in here, hence the bed. But I wanted to sleep in my own bed more. I made the reading nook in the front to help with that, and just never got rid of the bed in here… but that works out, right? You can stay here now.”

“Until?” Isaac asked, skeptical.

Tereza blinked in confusion. “For… for as long as you need, Isaac. You’re free to read anything here that you can. Everything is in different languages, some I’ve never ever seen before. I can help with translations if needed. You’re free to anything in the kitchen as well. I’ll make breakfast in the morning.”

“Why are you being so welcoming?” Isaac snapped.

Tereza scoffed, “Well, you haven’t given me a reason not to be.”

“Why do you trust me?”

“I-”

“Why do you trust _me_ , a rivaling forgemaster, a complete stranger? I could _kill you_ in your sleep.” Isaac’s glare was scathing, arms crossed over his chest, his body tensed as he berated her. She reminded him of Hector- _that traitor-_ more and more with every naïve moment.

Tereza didn’t seem phased, however. She crossed her own arms and steeled her gaze, “You misunderstand me, I think. You think me gullible, foolish, stupid even. But my actions aren’t motivated by a lack of understanding. They’re motivated by an abundance of it.” Her eyes softened, “I offer you my home... because I suspect no one’s offered you one before.”

Isaac glanced away at that. His arms, once crossing his chest in a show of power now attempted to shield him from the burden of memory. “One person has.”

A corner of Tereza’s mouth rose into a smirk, “You found yourself a saint then, I suppose.”

Isaac nearly laughed in anguish. Instead, his gaze held steady, “Something like that.”

“Hmm.” Tereza seemed to accept that answer. She moved to exit and Isaac stepped into the room so she could pass. She looked up to meet his eyes and smiled, “Sleep well, Isaac.” Isaac watched as she crossed the hallway and disappeared into her own room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Isaac sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. He closed the door to his room- how had it become _his_ room so fast?- but dragged his feet on getting to the bed. The reminder of the home he once had, however atypical, rocked him to his core. On the wood floor, he felt sand shift under his shoes, its grains slipping between his fingers, the visage of his most trusted friend disappearing before his eyes.

“I don’t want sleep,” he muttered into the empty room. He sat on the bed, exhaustion laden in his soul more than his body. His limbs felt heavy with regret, his airways obstructed by heartache. He laid his head down on the pillow, and it provided no relief.

“I want answers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody:  
> No one:  
> Isaac @ Tereza's chickens: fuck around and find out

**Author's Note:**

> The Tereza Stan Club Discord: [ https://discord.gg/BKKTjw9BRB ](https://discord.gg/BKKTjw9BRB)  
> A server for this story, with memes, sneak previews, fanart, and fun. 18+, minimal activity/notifs, lurk-friendly.
> 
> The only beta reader on this fic is me. Apologies for any mistakes.


End file.
